


Poolside

by vondrostes



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: (sort of), Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Harry, Come Marking, M/M, Polyamory, Poolboy Harry, Praise Kink, Prostate Massage, Rimming, Rough Sex, Size Kink, Virgin Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:54:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23207302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vondrostes/pseuds/vondrostes
Summary: “I’m not some blushing virgin,” Harry protested, though his face was flushed where it was pressed up against the cool granite.“But you are a virgin,” Ben pointed out. “At least in terms of never being fucked.”
Relationships: Harry Styles/Ben Winston
Comments: 2
Kudos: 108





	Poolside

**Author's Note:**

> Twitter: @vondrostes & @vondrostesupd8s  
> Tumblr: @vondrostes  
> IG: @vondrostesupd8s

Ben had been loath to leave England when he’d first secured his job as a producer on Late Late, but living in London nearly his whole life had made him accustomed to the dreary weather, the hustle and bustle of the city.

Living in Los Angeles was like waking up from a nightmare.

Or more accurately, Ben supposed, like occupying a dreamscape. Everything seemed to move slower in California, from the people themselves to the traffic. Working nights on weekday evenings gave Ben even more time to spend his late mornings and afternoons luxuriating in the sun out by the pool in the back garden—something he could have never dreamed of before making the big move across the Atlantic.

Meri’d had a harder time adjusting, but she’d seemed to come around to it after the first six months or so, by which time she’d found herself a job she liked and joined not just a book club, but a gardening group, a fine art society, and a pottery class.

For all intents and purposes, they were every bit the LA socialites they’d both been familiar with because of Hollywood movies, occupying a niche in American society that they could have never even dreamed of five years ago.

It was only fitting, then, that they found themselves in dire need of a pool boy.

They’d rented the house for the first six months while going through the arduous process of working out an agreement with the property owner to actually buy the place once all the immigration paperwork was in order. But the unfortunate side effect of being homeowners was that they were suddenly responsible for maintaining the property. And that meant landscapers, housekeepers, and—a pool boy.

Finding someone suitable for the job was easier said than done. Los Angeles was full of kids with the requisite skills of course, but Meri was awfully discerning when it came right down to it. Not a single interviewee made it past the first meeting. She didn’t like their vibes, she’d explained, and even though Ben didn’t have any idea what that even meant, he wasn’t about to argue with her.

Then along came Harry.

Harry was nineteen, going on twenty. He was born in Cheshire (which Ben suspected had influenced Meri’s decision more than anything else), but his family had moved to the states when he was twelve, after his mother had re-married for the second time. Ben knew all of this because Harry couldn’t seem to ever shut up, but Meri was so clearly enamoured with him that it was a no-brainer when she suggested that they stop interviewing and just give Harry the job instead.

Thankfully, Harry ended up being every bit the hard worker he’d made himself out to be. He came by three times a week to thoroughly clean the pool, which was a massive sprawling thing that dominated nearly the entirety of their back garden, complete with a water feature and a hot tub—which had to be cleaned as well, of course.

As a consequence, Ben ended up seeing rather a lot of Harry. He liked to spend his free time—especially while Meri was at work—sitting outside and reading on the deck in one of the loungers, or having a bit of a swim himself. Whenever Harry came by to do his scheduled cleanings, Ben was almost always sat outside waiting for him, sunglasses perched on his face and a pair of earphones blocking out the omnipresent noise of the city, audible even up in the hills.

It was a good month before Ben started to pay more attention to Harry than his books.

“Are you growing out your hair?” he found himself asking as Harry expertly wielded the long handheld vacuum he used to clean the sides of the pool.

Harry nodded without looking up. His curls were already hanging in his face; Ben had noticed they were a bit longer now because he constantly had to push them back behind his ears as he worked. “I was thinking about it, yeah,” he said in a tone that implied he’d actually been deadset on it before Ben decided to comment. Finally, he glanced up to meet Ben’s eyes, pausing with the vacuum still in the water, his hands wrapped tightly around the handle. “Why, do you think I shouldn’t?”

Ben shook his head vigorously. “I think it’d look nice,” he told Harry.

Harry smiled a bit and turned back toward the pool, his cheeks going a bit pink at the praise. They didn’t exchange another word for the remainder of the afternoon.

For the next month, nothing much changed. Then July rolled around, and suddenly, _everything_ changed.

At first, Ben didn’t think the increasing amounts of skin that Harry was putting on display was intentional. The weather was getting warmer, after all, and at the start, at least, there was nothing overly scandalous about the short-shorts and the too-tight t-shirts. But then Harry came around in a pair of bright yellow swim shorts that went so high up they could have almost been classed as a speedo, and Ben wasn’t quite sure what to think.

Meri was annoyingly amused by the whole thing. “You think he’s trying to seduce you?” she asked the next evening after dinner, leaning against the kitchen island with her arms crossed over her chest, barely suppressing the smug smile that Ben knew was the cause of the corner of her lip twitching as she spoke.

“I didn’t say that,” Ben replied hastily. He knew it sounded overly defensive, but Harry’s behaviour did seem like a cause of concern—for him, at least. Meri’s expression didn’t change except for her eyebrows, which lifted by degrees as Ben tried to explain himself until it became abundantly clear that she didn’t share his worry.

But maybe she should have, because a week later, Harry was on his knees trying to fish the pool skimmer he’d dropped out of the water (very conveniently done right in front of Ben’s lounger, of course) and Ben couldn’t seem to take his eyes off of the curve of Harry’s arse or the little strip of tan skin that was revealed between the waistband of his shorts and the bottom hem of his t-shirt.

Ben had never been attracted to a man before, but there was something distinctly androgynous about Harry that he couldn’t quite explain. It didn’t help that his bum was nearly as curvy as Meri’s, or that his thighs were rounded in a way that most boys could never hope to achieve, or that his nipples were big and dark and poked through his t-shirt and sometimes made Ben’s mouth water.

“Got it!” Harry yelled triumphantly as he rose to his feet with the skimmer clutched in his hands—only to slip on his way up and go windmilling backwards straight into the pool with a huge splash.

Ben was up and off of the lounger without even thinking, his body automatically diving into the pool after Harry without affording him the opportunity to think about the fact that Harry was lifeguard-certified and definitely didn’t need saving.

“Oops,” Harry said when he resurfaced in Ben’s arms, his skin flushed all the way down to the neckline of his vintage band tee, which was so thin that Ben could see all the way through it as though it was transparent.

He had tattoos, Ben realized. More than the ones on his arms and ankles. He had a lot of tattoos. Including a big dark butterfly on his stomach that Ben couldn’t help but wonder about: what would it look like streaked in come?

Ben’s stomach turned—not unpleasantly—but he shoved Harry away quickly anyway. He was married, he reminded himself. He and Meri had never been strictly monogamous when they lived in London, but it had been months since either one of them had even brought up the possibility of sleeping with someone else, and none of those past partners had been a teenage pool boy in their employ.

It didn’t make sense to even ask Meri’s permission in this case, but Ben found himself wandering inside to retrieve his phone under the guise of getting Harry a towel. He sent the text quickly and set his phone back down on the counter. He almost didn’t want to look at it again for fear of what her response might be, even though the deed was already done, and there was certainly no taking it back now.

The towels were located in a linen closet in the master bathroom upstairs, because he and Meri had yet to have any overnight guests and as such hadn’t seen the point in stocking the guest bath. So it was a few minutes later that Ben came back down with two towels in hand only to find Harry stood at the kitchen counter with Ben’s phone in his hand.

He glanced up as Ben walked through the entryway, but he didn’t look the least bit guilty about being caught spying on his boss. Ben’s stomach dropped.

“What are you doing?” Ben asked, his mouth dry.

Harry didn’t break eye contact as he replied. “Could ask you the same thing.” When Ben didn’t respond, he glanced down at the phone in his hand. “’Think Harry wants to suck my dick. Green light?’” He looked back up again, finding Ben still speechless. “Meri said you should go for it, but she wants you to find out if I’m open to eating pussy, too.”

Ben drew in a deep breath through his nose and swallowed hard. “Are you?” he finally managed.

“I’ve only ever been with women before,” Harry answered, and it was like all the air rushed out of Ben, leaving him feeling deflated.

“Oh.” Maybe he’d misinterpreted, or maybe he’d just projected his own desires onto Harry as some form of wishful thinking. But Ben had genuinely thought….

“That doesn’t mean I haven’t been thinking about your cock with two fingers up my own arse,” Harry said bluntly, his gaze still unrelenting.

Ben still couldn’t breathe, but now it was for an entirely different reason.

It was hard to say who moved first, but somehow they ended up with Harry’s back against the wall and Ben at his front, their mouths glued together as they clattered into the family photos hung up next to the back door. They moved chaotically, neither willing to let go of each other long enough to sort things out. Finally, Ben managed to pull away just long enough to spin Harry around and bend him over the island.

“This is your first time,” Ben realised belatedly, once Harry’s shorts were around his ankles with Ben stood behind him, ready to pull a bottle of cooking oil out of the pantry to use.

“I’m not some blushing virgin,” Harry protested, though his face was flushed where it was pressed up against the cool granite.

“But you are a virgin,” Ben pointed out. “At least in terms of never being fucked.”

“I told you, I’ve done my own fingers.”

Fingers weren’t the same as a cock, however, and Ben was well aware that his trended toward the larger end of the spectrum. He’d have to take things slow.

“Don’t move about,” he warned Harry as he knelt down behind him. For the moment, he decided to forget about the oil, wanting Harry to be as relaxed as possible before he even proceeded to finger him open.

Harry smelled strongly of chlorine when Ben spread him open. He either shaved or waxed, which was surprising for a boy who’d never been with a man before, but maybe it wasn’t lack of desire so much as lack of opportunity. Harry had been rather shy when he was first interviewed. Ben couldn’t see him making the first move. Luckily, Ben was a bit bolder.

Harry let out a soft, startled cry when Ben licked over him at first, testing the waters as it were. It wasn’t a bad sound, just surprised, so Ben kept going, eating him out until Harry was shaking, unable to hold himself up, his cock hard and leaking onto the tile between his feet.

Ben pulled back to survey his work. His beard had left pink marks against Harry’s arse-cheeks, the skin inflamed from the abrasion, and more sensitive for it. He felt around between Harry’s thighs, curious about what another cock would feel like in his hand. It was soaking wet even though the rest of Harry had long-since dried after his mishap in the pool, the pre-come oozing out onto the shaft and dribbling down onto his bollocks as well. Ben slicked up his fingers with it as much as he could before letting go in favour of pressing them against Harry’s arsehole instead.

“Push back,” Ben advised. He’d not fucked a man before either, but he wasn’t any stranger to anal sex. “It’ll feel strange but it won’t hurt as long as you stay relaxed.” He waited until Harry let out his next breath before trying to push in again. This time, his fingers breached the entrance to Harry’s arse, sliding in a few centimetres before Ben let up the pressure he’d been applying. He didn’t want to overwhelm Harry just yet. “How does that feel?” he asked.

“Weird,” Harry replied, breathing hard. “I dunno.”

“I’m gonna pull out,” Ben warned him. “I need to get something else to use for lube.” When Harry nodded in acknowledgement, he quickly withdrew his fingers before standing up and going over to the pantry where he knew that there was an entire shelf full of various cooking oils to choose from.

Ben wasn’t stingy when he slicked up his fingers again after returning to where Harry was still bent over the island. He didn’t give a verbal warning this time, instead pressing firmly against Harry’s arse and waiting for the boy to let him in before pushing even harder. When Harry finally relaxed enough, Ben’s fingers slid straight in up to the knuckle. Harry let out a muffled groan.

Harry was hot and tight inside, and suddenly Ben could barely contain himself. He needed to fuck Harry and he needed to fuck him now. But he had to be patient first. He had to take things slow.

“Better?” Ben asked.

“I think so.” Harry’s words were syrupy, slurred into the hard surface of the counter under his cheek. “I feel so full.”

Ben didn’t bother to tell Harry that if he thought two fingers were a lot, he was going to be in for a surprise once Ben pulled out his cock. The knowledge would probably just make him tense up in anticipation, and that was the last thing they wanted.

Ben kept up a gentle, steady rhythm with his fingers, making sure to apply a bit of pressure to Harry’s prostate on the outstroke to keep him hard and engaged, wanting more and more and more. When he thought Harry was ready, he poured a bit more oil onto his hand and carefully pressed in another finger.

Harry gave a jolt like he’d been electrocuted.

“Still all right?” Ben checked.

“Yeah,” Harry panted. “Yeah, I’m all right.” He sounded more than all right, if the fucked-out quality of his voice was anything to go by.

Ben kept going, waiting until Harry’s arse no longer felt like it was cutting off the circulation to his fingers before pulling them out. “Still want more?”

“Mhmm.” Harry’s eyes were closed now, his mouth slack as he slowly breathed in and out while Ben pulled out his cock and slicked himself up.

When Ben finally pressed the tip of his cock against Harry’s arse, he abruptly realised that there was no amount of preparation in the world that would have been enough. “Come on, darling,” he coaxed, feeling himself starting to perspire a bit from the effort it was taking to keep himself under control. “Push back onto me. That’s it. Good boy.”

Harry shivered at the praise and then went rigid as soon as the head of Ben’s cock slipped inside. Ben gritted his teeth. It was like putting his dick in a steel vice and he wasn’t sure how he was supposed to keep himself from coming long enough to actually fuck Harry properly.

“Keep pushing,” Ben just barely managed to say before letting out a low groan as his cock sank even deeper into the tight clutch of Harry’s body. “Just relax. Let me in.” He could hardly believe it when his hips were pressed up against Harry’s arse less than thirty seconds later. Harry had somehow managed to take all of him.

“Fuck,” Harry cried out, squirming a little on the end of Ben’s cock like he wasn’t sure whether to pull away or push back onto it even more. “What do I do?”

“Just hold still,” Ben breathed out even as he reached forward to essentially scruff Harry, holding him down by the back of his neck so he’d _stop_. “You need to tell me to slow down if it’s too much,” he told Harry, whose only answer was a soft whimper as he attempted to nod his head.

Ben hadn’t been intending to get rough with Harry when this whole thing had started, but now that he was inside Harry, he felt like he could barely control himself. The only comfort as he started to pull out of Harry’s arse before plunging back in again, was that he knew that if Harry asked him to, he would stop.

The oil was viscous enough that there was virtually no friction once Ben got going, allowing him to slam in deep and hard with every thrust, until the sounds coming out of Harry’s mouth didn’t even seem human anymore. Ben fucked into him frantically, leaving bruises on Harry’s hip with his fingers and tugging hard at the curls at the back of his neck as he used his grip on them for leverage.

Harry was a mess once it was over, and Ben couldn’t help himself when he pulled out at just the last second before spraying come across Harry’s lower back. He stood there panting for a moment while Harry remained bent double, laying in a puddle of his own drool and covered in Ben’s come, his arse red and still split open from Ben’s cock, and Ben couldn’t stop himself from jamming his fingers back inside as soon as he’d caught his breath again.

Harry gave a sharp yelp but relaxed instantly into Ben’s arms as he pulled Harry upright with his free hand, keeping Harry close to his chest as he pressed his fingers down into his prostate hard. Now he could see Harry’s cock bobbing in the open air, flushed bright pink and hard, his foreskin pulled back tight around the head, covered in shiny wetness from all the pre-come.

Ben wanted to make him come for real now.

He kept Harry’s face tilted up with a hand cupped under his jaw, while he kept the first three fingers on his other hand busy massaging rough circles into Harry’s prostate, judging his progress through the vibration of Harry’s moans reverberating in his throat. When come started to pour out of Harry’s cock like a fountain, spilling onto the counter and down to the floor, the pitch of his moans shot upwards, and Harry’s body jerked in Ben’s hold, his hands latching around Ben’s forearm like he was afraid he would fall if he let go.

Then he went limp, and Ben finally took mercy on him as he pulled his fingers out slow and gentle. The way a first time should be.


End file.
